


Count to Ten

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, M/M, burr is sad because hamilton made him lose the election of 1800, slightly shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burr deals with the aftermath of losing the endorsement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Count to Ten

If he hadn't, Burr would have won.   
  
Burr knows this--feels this in his bones. That if Hamilton had kept that damned, beautiful, ridiculous, loud mouth of his shut--if he hadn't said anything--anything at all--  
  
\--said that--  
  
"When all is said and all is done--"  
  
It feels like a million years of something has be unutterably lost. Between them. What they might have shared, once. Long ago. Those sparkling eyes of his, once so full of naïveté and damned joy and hope in his every movement. Sharp and loose, too full of everything-ness--a stark contrast between the controlled veneer of Burr's own smoothness. He hadn't yet learned. Hadn't learned what Burr had tried to impress upon him--  
  
"Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead..."  
  
He never _could_  keep that damned mouth of his shut--  
  
"You're an orphan? I'm an orphan--God, I wish there was a war, so we could prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for!"  
  
\--despite everything Burr had said.   
  
And still Hamilton had persevered. Managed to claw his way from a mere foot soldier to President Washington's second-in-command, to a cabinet member--treasury secretary, no less--  
  
Something has changed. Irretrievably so. The Hamilton he once knew is long gone, replaced by the saddened, pitiful, angry creature he's now become. The Hamilton that Burr knew from those long nights sitting tentside on the battlefield between spats, awaiting the dawn, firelight crackling before them with motes of pure light climbing ever upwards...  
  
Hamilton looking at him curiously on his wedding night--quizzically. "I will never understand you--"  
  
Like he _wanted_  to understand him. To really _try_ to know the cold enigma that was Aaron Burr.   
  
Even though he had those fools at his side--Laurens, Mulligan, that dandified Lafayette--  
  
\--it was as if Alex--he bites his lip to stop himself thinking the _name--_  
  
_\--wanted_ him too.   
  
"I don't understand how you stand to the side!"  
  
In his own way, Burr supposes, Hamilton tried. Tried to get him to be more like _him._ Come to him in the middle of the nigh, much-needed sleep clinging to his eyes, wheedling and cajoling and practically _begging_ for his help--  
  
\--that was how it had been between them. Hamilton reaching out, and Burr demurring. Pulling away.   
  
Until now.   
  
Burr digs his rounded nails into his palm, and is surprised at how much it hurts.   
  
"--Jefferson has beliefs. Burr has none."


End file.
